


Lucky

by cowboykylux



Category: Paterson (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: You write Paterson a love poem for the first time.
Relationships: Paterson (Paterson)/Reader, Paterson (Paterson)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Lucky

“What’s this?” He had asked that morning, taking a sneak peek inside the tin box you always pack a lunch in for him.

There was a slip of paper, folded up into an origami heart, no doubt something you had spent too long watching too many youtube videos to learn how to do. You sometimes left him a note, but those were usually on stickies, your looping handwriting a sweet reminder that you think of him, that you hope he thinks of you.

But this is too elaborate to be just a note, he had thought, and when he went to reach for it, you had swatted his hand away with a shy smile and a kiss to his cheek.

“You have to wait until lunch.” You had said simply, and like the good husband that Paterson was, he had.

But now, now it is lunchtime, and he’s parked the bus in the little depot for the hour, he’s walked to his favorite spot with his favorite bench near his favorite waterfalls. He’s sat down and opened the tin and plucked out the heart that you so carefully folded with such neat crisp lines.

He almost feels guilty, undoing the paper. It’s clear there’s care put into it, as there is with everything you do. But he’s more curious than guilty, and with gentle prying fingers he unravels the secret you’ve bundled up for him, and before he even finishes the first line he knows, he knows this is no ordinary note.

_Your eyes are warm, like the summer sun_

_Your hands are soft, like a cloud._

_Your laugh is quiet, but it’s the only one,_

_Your spirit is brave, blazing, loud._

_Your talent is larger than your handsome nose,_

_Your poetry is more tantalizing than prose,_

_I am not a poet, don’t you know it?_

_But I am lucky_

_That you are all_

_Mine._

Paterson blinks away, eyes stinging, heart hammering in his chest at the poem you’ve written for him. He can scarcely believe it, can scarcely comprehend what it is that he’s reading, because he’s so overwhelmed with love for you. A tear splats onto the paper, and frantically he wipes it away, afraid it’ll smear the ink which you have so lovingly put down, afraid it’ll ruin the sweet words you have conjured, words inspired by and dedicated to him.

He closes his eyes and lets the poem wash through him once again, turns his face to the sun and pretends its your warm embrace, the caress of your love melting into his cheeks as he smiles at the Heavens above.

You’re wrong, he thinks, you’re mistaken.

For as he re-folds and re-bundles this powerful spell which you have cast on him, as he tucks it into his shirt pocket so it can live next to his beating heart, the heart which only beats for you, he can’t help but declare to the world that he is in fact, the lucky one.


End file.
